


november and a flower

by princealliance (anaksemuabangsa)



Series: pretty words [7]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Together, M/M, Metaphors, blowjob, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-03
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:01:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27369196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaksemuabangsa/pseuds/princealliance
Summary: "Do you like them, Injunnie?""Like what, hyung?""Flowers."-Renjun buys a pot of flowers, it shouldn't mean anything.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung
Series: pretty words [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2004352
Comments: 17
Kudos: 173





	november and a flower

**Author's Note:**

> honestly this is just 4,7k of me playing with flower metaphors. set during nct 2020. unbeta'd.

+++

Renjun will later blame it for lack of sleep, or for lack of sustenance. Nobody eats on shoots lest they wish looking bloated. He'll blame it for the freezing cold of the set, if he could. Any excuse to explain the sudden way he goes rigid, focused solely on Doyoung walking towards him in a suit. As if enchanted, fascinated by the sight.

It's nothing he hasn't seen before, nothing he doesn't see every year. But the deep blue of the suit makes Renjun wish for a stem of red rose, to put carefully on the breast-pocket of the jacket. How delectable it will look. The deep, elegant navy. The mellow, rich maroon. All a contrast against Doyoung's pale skin.

His name out of Doyoung's mouth is a distant sound. He hears his own heartbeat instead, in sync with the _ba-dump-ba-dump_ of it trying to claw out of his chest. 

"Renjun-ah," Doyoung says again, frowning.

Renjun only sees his bloodshot eyes. The red rims around it. An exotic orchid. No. An inverted tulip. Red and bleeding at the edges.

"Renjun-ah," Doyoung repeats. Voice soft. Lilting. "You alright?"

It takes a while for Renjun to pull himself out of flower fields and back into the present, staring at Doyoung's outstretched hand.

"Oh yes, fine, hyung." A soft palm slides against his, and the spaces between Doyoung's fingers fit for Renjun's own fingers, after all.

Doyoung purses his lips. "You look tired."

"Yeah," Renjun replies, breathless. He feels winded even though they're just starting. "Aren't we all?"

-

It takes a while for their relationship to simmer down, if there was any relationships at all. It takes a while for whatever it is between one Huang Renjun and one Kim Doyoung to mold itself into a semi-easy friendship. One that lets Doyoung fret over Renjun and lets Renjun sit there, stunned at the attention, and not-sass back at him. 

It's a bit like the calm before the storm. Or the sweltering heat before a torrential rain. Charged with static, electron particles flying all over the place, and smelling mildly of petrichor.

-

"Geraniums," Renjun murmurs.

Donghyuck shifts next to him, pulls out an earphone bud and raises a skeptical eyebrow. "What?"

"Nothing," Renjun counters quickly.

Doyoung's eyes are like geraniums. 

-

Doyoung makes him think of flowers. Of something breakable that needs to be put under a glass dome. A sight that doesn't have to beg to be witnessed. Something that has a natural gravity, catches the eyes as easily as they don't, too.

"Do you like them, Injunnie?"

Doyoung is ethereal in the sunlight, and when he smiles up at Renjun he shows his gums and teeth. The cool October air licks at Renjun's skin underneath his sweater and coat. Renjun will blame that for the way he shivers.

"Like what, hyung?"

Doyoung turns his head and stares at a single lone rose on the display, its crown already bowing down to the ground. Put in the corner after rows and rows of bright daisies and peonies, almost like an afterthought. "Flowers."

"I like some," he says, "I think they're pretty."

"They are, aren't they." Doyoung straightens up from his crouch, scrunches his face up. "But it's such a waste, don't you think?"

"What is?" Renjun mumbles distractedly. Doyoung looks good in his jeans jacket, like someone's teenage dreams spilled into flesh on the sunny streets of Hongdae. He leaves a scent behind when he bypasses Renjun and pushes the door open to the cafe. Eucalyptus and Le Labo Lys 41.

"The flowers." He waves a hand about. "You cut them and they last a couple of days, and then they die."

"Would you like them in a pot instead?"

Doyoung laughs at his comment, all the way to the register. "I might," he says. "I like taking care of plants, you know."

"I know," Renjun says, "Donghyuck told me your room is more like a greenhouse these days."

"You know better than to trust the things that come out of Donghyuck's mouth," Doyoung says. He extends his card to the cashier as he pays while Renjun pays attention to the way his buttoned sleeve peeks out from under the jean jacket's instead. It makes him look delicate, almost boyish. Tame.

"You could put them in the balcony."

Doyoung's forehead wrinkles in thought. He puts his card back on his cardholder and repockets it. "They wouldn't survive the winter."

He leads the way again, finds a table in the back that gets enough sunlight from the wide, open windows of the cafe. Doyoung makes small talk about work, abandons their conversation about flowers entirely.

Renjun pauses halfway through his French toast, a knife digging into the soft, fluffy bread, when he realizes he never gave Doyoung his order.

-

"Will they last?"

"What will?"

"The flowers, if you put them in a pot."

Doyoung's smile widens into a grin. He shows all his gums and teeth again. "Of course," he says, "they might even grow into a bush if you take care of them correctly."

-

"Humans are like flowers, don't you think?"

"In that they're all living creatures?"

"In that they're all different." Doyoung drags an index finger through the puddle of condensation on the table, spreading them around. His faux-glasses have slipped down the bridge of his nose, and Renjun itches to push them up. "But they're pretty all the same."

"I suppose," Renjun answers airily.

Renjun doesn't have the heart to tell Doyoung that his perspective about flowers and people is wrong. That normal people aren't flowers the way Doyoung thinks they are. That human beings can't be cut up from the ground and their existence aren't equitable to the way they're sown and watered and reaped. That a human being shouldn't be appreciated only by its explicit beauty and some sort of expected implicit value.

But in the way that _they_ are, the way Renjun and Doyoung are, as professions go. They are all just flowers.

-

"You look well." Doyoung deposits himself next to Renjun, leans into his space. The scratchy wool of his sweater rubs against Renjun's bare forearm. Renjun hasn't changed into his stage costume yet, still in this morning's T-Shirt. He thinks about what an odd pair they must look like. Doyoung all made up and pretty, and Renjun with his bedhead still falling over his eyes.

Renjun bites back his witty reply and hesitance. Stores them for later scrutinizing, when Doyoung isn't a warm presence plastered to his side, playing with the short hair at the nape of his neck. They stay silent for a while. Renjun observes their mismatched breathing, how he starts inhaling in the middle of Doyoung's exhale.

"Renjun-ah," he says softly, blowing air on Renjun's ear. "Let's get something to eat later, hyung will pay."

Somewhere in the room, Mark laughs, high and giddy. Donghyuck's elated squeals follow. Taeyong's deep chuckle not far behind. Are they playing? Renjun wouldn't know, hidden as he is between Doyoung and the wall. Cornered. Sequestered, he supposes. In another place altogether.

"Eels." Renjun swallows. "Let's get eels, how does that sound?"

"Sounds great." Kun calls for Doyoung suddenly, and Doyoung unsticks himself from Renjun, pushing himself away. Renjun doesn't know if the coolness provided afterwards is accompanied by a sense of relief or loss.

Doyoung's hand sneaking up his arm makes him turn towards the man, finally, and he finds Doyoung smiling at him. He ruffles Renjun's hair.

"Take a nap, Renjun-ah," he says, "you look tired."

He's not. Renjun wants to say but doesn't, looking at Doyoung walking away. He just hasn't put on lipstick yet.

-

Renjun drags Donghyuck out a week later, finds time between the end of promotions and the start of a new one. Donghyuck whines all the way to Yangjae, between rows of bonsai and cacti.

"What are you even looking for?"

"Geraniums," Renjun answers distractedly. There's a lily here, full bloom in November. Renjun runs the pad of his index finger on an ivory petal. The texture is soft, thin. Tear-able and see-through. Does the skin below Doyoung's collarbones feel like his too, he wonders.

"Geraniums? It's November."

Renjun shrugs.

"Why geraniums? Wouldn't roses be better?"

Renjun pauses, and does a melodramatic 180-turn towards Donghyuck. "And what ever do you mean by that?"

"It's for Doyoung-hyung, right?"

Renjun's breath catches in his throat. He's always forgotten how perceptive Donghyuck is when he wants to be until he's dishing out facts Renjun hasn't even told himself yet.

Renjun reels himself and his surprise in, imagines them like tendrils of smoke, being sucked in by a fan. He raises an eyebrow. "That's why I'm getting geraniums."

"You're not making any sense."

Renjun starts walking again, lets his hand feel over the smoothness of the orange tree next to him. "Good," he says, "I don't have to make sense to you."

-

Renjun does end up getting a pot of geraniums. Double-crowned, single-stalk. Its petals are bright red on the edges, smooth white on the center, the point where they meet wavy like the ocean. The flowers seem to bob up and down, up and down. Nodding along to the conversation as Donghyuck and Renjun ate and talked.

Renjun brings it home to the dorm with him, and ignores Donghyuck's exasperated look. He puts it on his window sill, and spends five minutes just watching it before he sleeps.

Later, he dreams of a lone geranium shooting up in the middle of a patch of cold, cracked soil. Standing steady. Strong.

A snowflake lands on the bright white petal, and dissolves into nothing.

-

The sight of any of his members invading his private space should be a normal occurrence by now. Their youngest especially. It still irks him, nonetheless. 

"You're eating in my bed."

"How long do you plan to keep this, for?" Jisung strokes the leaf of the flower with a cheese-powder covered finger.

"Jisung--you're going to make a mess."

"It's pretty, could use some sunlight though."

"And what do you know about flowers?" Renjun strides forward, grabs the opened bag of snack from Jisung's hands.

Jisung pouts, annoyed. "I was eating that."

"You'll get Cheeto dust all over my bedding."

"I won't," he says, "because I suck my fingers after very bite, see." Jisung does exactly that, in exaggeration, just to aggravate Renjun's sense of peace.

"Jisung," Renjun intones. "Off the bed."

Jisung shrugs, but climbs off the bed. Renjun cringes at the crumbs scattered around where he sat. He shoves the Cheeto bag back into Jisung's hand.

"Go bother Jaemin, I'm busy."

Jisung snorts. "Busy _mooning_ over Doyoung-hyung."

Renjun's face flames up. "Out," he says. "Out of my room Park Jisung or I swear to God--"

"Okay, okay," Jisung says, scurrying towards the door. "Bossy."

Renjun throws himself on top of his bed and sighs, Cheeto crumbs be damned. He stares at the flower. One more week, he resolves. One more week.

-

"Heard you got a flower."

Renjun huffs, arms crossing defensively across his chest. This is getting out of hand. Him and his flowers.

"It's just a flower."

"It's a geranium."

"So?"

Kun lets the conversation lull in favor of downing an entire bottle of water in one go. He wipes his mouth with his sleeve afterwards, leans against the cool wall of the dance practice room.

"I don't know," he says, "seems meaningful."

"It's just a pot of geraniums," Renjun replies, and when Kun doesn't add anything, elaborates. "It can last the winter, you just have to store it properly. You have to _overwinter_ it."

"Are they pretty? The geraniums?"

"They're alright--how do you know anyways?"

"Chenle told me." Kun looks at him, smirking. "Are you sure the flowers are _just_ alright?"

"Too many gossips around here," Renjun mutters. He feels lost by the double entendres and meaningful looks Kun keeps sending him. "And what do you mean by that?"

Kun shrugs. "I'm just saying, you have to take care of the flowers. Water them so them don't die, et cetera."

Renjun narrows his eyes at him. "I'm aware."

Kun laughs, it draws attention from the other members in the room, including Doyoung. He spends some time staring at them. Confused. Renjun's face feels hot, the tips of his fingers cold.

Kun slugs him gently on the shoulder. "I'm sure you are, little brother."

-

The week is over before Renjun knows it, and by the next Monday, the pot of geraniums is still sitting pretty on his window sill. Renjun's all the way inside SM's cushy studios, thinking about the geraniums in his room. He forgot to water them this morning. He wonders if that makes him neglectful.

"Injunnie."

Doyoung tugs on his sleeve, demands his attention. A flower seeking sunlight and Renjun finds that he can't not give it to him.

"Yes?"

"Sit with hyung."

Renjun does, leans back on the sofa behind the producers and lets Doyoung have his hand.

Doyoung rubs the sleeve of Renjun's hoodie between the pads of his fingers. Renjun feels it on his stomach. Like being stirred on the inside with a spoon. He sticks to Renjun, sticks to him like gum, and it feels good to be inseparable, to have the comfort of Doyoung's body heat available to him.

He only leaves Renjun when it's his time to record, and immediately comes back to his side. He stretches, not unlike a cat, and pouts when Renjun goes to record his own part. When Renjun comes out of the booth, Doyoung is there, and then he's tugging on Renjun's sleeve again.

"Renjun-ah," he says, voice soft, lilting. His fingers twines possessively with Renjun's, and Renjun lets him. "Let's go home."

"Let's eat, first," Renjun says.

"Okay." Doyoung smiles at him, leads the way out the door. "Hyung will pay."

-

"You do realize he's never going to make a move," Donghyuck quips.

"I agree," Jaemin adds.

Jeno nods where he's leaning on the bed, sitting on the floor, eyes crinkling into crescents as he offers Renjun a bag of almonds.

Renjun shakes his head. "No thank you, Jeno-ya."

Donghyuck pushes himself up on his elbows on Renjun's bed, and eyes Jaemin carefully. Jaemin returns his gaze with a raised eyebrow.

"Anywho, you should ask him out," Donghyuck continues.

"I think what's more interesting is," Renjun says, "why you are all here, in my room at--one AM in the morning."

"We're giving you an intervention," Jeno explains. "You sure you don't want any almonds? Proteins are good for you."

"No thank you," Renjun and Donghyuck say at the same time. Jaemin just slides his hand over Jeno's head, starts carding through his hair. Jeno leans into it, and Renjun wonders if he and Doyoung can have that kind of easy tactility too.

Donghyuck pulls his legs in, tucks them under his chest, until they're no longer by Jaemin's face. They're both on Renjun's bed, leaving Renjun, the owner of the room, sitting on the chair.

"He's not a coward exactly, but he's kind of a scaredy-cat."

"You wouldn't say," Renjun replies drily. "Why are you staging an intervention?"

"For your undying love woes," Jaemin says, "and _that_." He points a long finger to the geraniums still sitting on Renjun's window sill. The petals seem to have wilted, a little. But still standing, bright and red and white. "And why it shouldn't be here anymore."

"I don't have love woes," Renjun counters, adds, "I'll give it to him next week."

"Tomorrow," Donghyuck says, "he doesn't have any schedules tomorrow. He'll be alone in the dorm."

"Thanks," Renjun says, "I don't know why and how that's relevant to me."

Donghyuck just sends him a withering stare, and Jaemin laughs loudly. Jeno pats his knee, and smiles at him with pity.

Renjun flushes.

"Don't play dumb," Jeno offers, "just tell him the truth, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah," Renjun mutters, gives up. He gives up when Jeno gets involved. "I will."

-

Renjun of course, contrary to popular belief, does not go to 127's dorms, nor does he seek out Doyoung the following day. He's resolute in that he's not ready, that it isn't time, that Doyoung can wait, and _he_ can wait. But of course, life begs to digress.

The curveball comes in a form of a text, attached to it: an image. Doyoung's plants neatly lined together, one white pot next to another. In the middle of them all, an empty spot. Perfect for a small pot of lone geranium.

_From: Doyoung-hyung_

_To: me_

_20:41_

_another one would look nice, don't you think?_

Renjun curses, and bolts out the door, his pot of geraniums in hand.

-

The flowerpot feels heavy in his hands. He'd chosen the white pot specifically, because Doyoung's plants were all in white pots, and he'd wanted it to match. To fit into Doyoung's neat room as naturally as it could, the flowers being a bright red.

"Hey."

Doyoung greets him with a smile, all gums and teeth, and ushers him inside. Renjun takes slow steps, and puts the plant on the shoe cabinet by the door.

"Hyung."

The door closes with a soft click, as Doyoung hums to Renjun calling him.

"Hyung."

"Is this for me?"

"Hyung." Renjun grabs Doyoung's wrist then, and how small it is, how frail, that Renjun is afraid it might break. They've barely passed the front part of the hallway, barefooted on the step together. Doyoung looks at Renjun's hand around his wrist, and then at Renjun's face. He softens, melts, a little. Candy under the sun.

"Yes, Renjun-ah?" He asks, voice soft and lilting.

Renjun presses his lips against Doyoung's. They're soft, malleable under Renjun's mouth. Doyoung gives out a quiet sigh when Renjun bites into his bottom lip. Hands sneak their way up his back, over his shoulder-blades. Leaves a trail of fire in their wake.

Renjun shudders when he pulls away. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Yes," Doyoung says. He tastes like mint. "Took you long enough."

Renjun huffs, seeks Doyoung's mouth again. He presses Doyoung up against the wall of his dorm's hallway, satisfied when he draws a startled whine out of Doyoung with his tongue. They part for air, and Doyoung gulps in mouthful of it, hooded eyes gazing at him.

"Insufferable," he whispers against Doyoung's mouth. Pressing a kiss. Two.

"No," Doyoung replies, "I'm the nice one."

They tumble into Doyoung's shared bedroom with the manager, empty, somehow. Locks it before they pull each other on the bed, hands clawing at each other's clothes.

"Wait--" Renjun gasps, Doyoung's mouth hot on the skin of his jugular. He twists his fingers in Doyoung's soft cotton shirt, despite his words. "Aren't we--going too fast--"

"No," Doyoung replies petulantly, and goes back up to lick into Renjun's mouth.

Renjun moans underneath him, shakes a little. All bravado and pomp stripped down on the doorway of Doyoung's eucalyptus-scented room. Renjun threads his fingers through Doyoung's soft hair, yanks it back a little. The little whimper that Doyoung lets out goes straight to his cock, hardening rapidly in his sweats. When Doyoung opens his eyes they're blown. Gone are the pretty geraniums, replaced by something more powerful, something potent and heady that encroaches Renjun's senses. Makes him flip them over, his arms caging over Doyoung's head.

He drops down, kisses Doyoung some more. It's sticky, kissing like this. Wet and hot and _desperate_. Renjun has never felt this sort of desperation before, not even before the night they announced who would debut.

Doyoung's hands land in a possessive brand on his waist, slithers down to his ass and _squeezes_. Renjun's breath stutters into his mouth.

Doyoung rolls up against him, rubs their crotches together, and that feels good, that feels _really_ good.

He looks wrecked when they pull away again, tufts of hair flying everywhere. Renjun wonders if he looks as wrecked as Doyoung does.

"Injunnie," he whispers, voice rough, like he spent the day singing. "Let me suck you off."

Renjun sucks in a breath through his teeth. "Okay."

Renjun flips on his back, settles comfortably against Doyoung's pillows. Doyoung crouches over his knees, and Renjun sees, through the low-hung collar, the protruding edges of his collarbones.

"Hyung--wait."

Doyoung pauses, and crawls forward, settling on Renjun's lap. Renjun takes the end of his shirt and lifts them over Doyoung's head. Doyoung complies easily, only making a soft noise of confusion as his shirt is tossed aside.

Renjun runs the pads of his fingers under the skin of the prominence, follows it with his lips. It doesn't feel like lily-petals, after all.

"Renjun?" Doyoung sighs, runs his fingers through Renjun's hair. Renjun surges forward, topples them down to the bed, and Doyoung falls with a quiet _oof_.

"Renjun?"

Renjun unattaches his lips from Doyoung's skin. Whatever Doyoung sees in his eyes makes him inhale sharply. Renjun wonders if he looks like a madman, he feels like one. Feels like he's burning like one.

"Let me," Renjun feels like it's not him who says that. "Please, hyung." 

Doyoung doesn't answer, just swallows and nods. There's a moment where Renjun wishes so badly he could mark up the smooth skin of Doyoung's neck, just so everyone can _see_ and _know_ he was with Renjun that night. He can't, so Renjun dives back down, takes one brown-pink nipple into his mouth.

Doyoung shudders. Quiet little hitches of breaths and gasps coming out of him as Renjun continues his path down Doyoung's chest, blows on his belly button, and nips at the soft skin underneath it.

Renjun's the one who pulls down on the waistband of Doyoung's boxers, and settles between Doyoung's legs, still fully clothed. Doyoung's cock springs free, hard and red at the tip, slapping softly against his stomach.

Doyoung looks good like this. With all the reds and blues already blooming on his chest, on his stomach, a swath of it across his cheeks. It's not the maroon stem of red rose Renjun wished for, but it's more beautiful. More worldly.

Renjun once again, is fascinated.

He bites the smooth skin on the inside of Doyoung's thigh, and Doyoung whines, jerking. "Ren--jun."

Renjun wraps a hand around Doyoung's erection, tugs once, twice, and then puts the head of it inside his mouth. Precum spurts out almost immediately onto his tongue. Bitter, salty. Renjun laps it all up, slides his mouth further down the shaft. Feels it throb as Doyoung moans.

Drool dribbles from the corners of his lips, and Renjun feels it drip down his chin and Doyoung's cock. He slides down some more, closes his eyes to concentrate, nose meeting short-trimmed pubic hair. Renjun lets the length of Doyoung's cock glide down his throat, breathes through his nose, and swallows.

The muscles of his throat contracts around Doyoung's cock, and Doyoung responds with a broken "Injun-ie," and a muffled moan.

Renjun pops off when he needs air, licks his lips and burns with satisfaction when Doyoung's eyes goes glazy, a weak whimper escaping him.

Smugness bubbles under his skin, prickles along his spine. He tongues the underside of Doyoung's cockhead, just to have Doyoung bucking up into his mouth, moaning.

"What's wrong, hyung?" He smirks a little. Teases a little.

Pretty fingers tangle with his hair, just patting, and slides down the cradle of his jaw. "You're good at this," Doyoung murmurs.

Renjun pumps Doyoung's cock slowly, watches precum bead at the tip. "Thanks."

"Oh, Renjun--" Whatever Doyoung is about to say dissolves into a groan as Renjun takes him back in his mouth. He fucks him proper, this time. Bobs his head up and down, up and down. Chokes himself on Doyoung's cock to reduce him into a babbling, moaning, mess. When his hips start to lift up, Renjun pins him down with a hand on his side, the other going to fondle with his balls.

"Renjun," he chokes, pushing at Renjun's head, "I'm close--pull of I'm--"

Renjun swallows determinedly, lets his throat flutter around the head of Doyoung's cock. His index finger traces lower, lower, until he's tracing the puckered entrance of Doyoung's asshole. It's the dry press of the tip of his finger that does Doyoung in, moaning loud as his balls draw short and he's cumming down Renjun's throat, Renjun's hand on his stomach preventing him from thrusting up into his mouth.

Doyoung heaves through it, and Renjun sucks his cock dutifully until he's whimpering, twitching through the aftershocks.

Renjun pulls off, presses one last kiss to the head of Doyoung's cock and sits up. He feels overly warm inside his hoodie, overheated. Skin tingling with how turned on he is. Renjun pulls the garment off, and immediately Doyoung is on him, coaxing him out of his sweats, face hidden in the crook of his neck.

Renjun gasps when the feel of Doyoung's cold, lubed palm slide along his cock.

"Come on, Injunnie, come for hyung."

He whispers nothing and everything into Renjun's neck, and every brush of his lips against Renjun's skin feels electric. Renjun shivers, and screws his eyes shut against the multitude of sensations. He cums like that, pinned down by Doyoung's weight, Doyoung's hand tugging on his cock, Doyoung swallowing down his moans. Starbursts behind his eyelids, like moonflowers blooming in the night.

-

"Why geraniums?"

Renjun shrugs. Said flowers have now converged with the rest of its friends, and Renjun doesn't know if it's him, but they seem a little happier, a little bouncier.

"It seemed like a type of flower you would like."

Doyoung shifts behind him, nuzzling into the nape of his neck, legs tangling with Renjun's. "No other reason?"

"Not really," Renjun says, playing with the soft skin between Doyoung's thumb and forefinger. "Why? Does it have a special meaning?"

"I don't know," he replies, "I was going to ask you that."

"Geraniums can last the winter," Renjun explains, "you just have to _overwinter_ it."

Doyoung laughs quietly, puffs of air hitting Renjun's skin. Renjun's face warms, and he squirms, wriggles free from Doyoung's hold so he can turn around and face him properly.

"Don't laugh," Renjun pleads. "Hyung."

"No, it's sweet," Doyoung says, eyes disappearing into crescents. "Thank you."

"Geraniums are mosquito-repellent too," Renjun says, "but not this one I think."

"No," Doyoung murmurs, staring at Renjun.

"What?"

"I want to kiss you again."

Renjun isn't one to dawdle, so he surges forward, pressing a clumsy kiss on Doyoung's lips. Doyoung keeps him there with a hand on the back of his head, and the kiss goes on forever, until Renjun's face is warm, flushed, and his lips are tingling.

"Tell me the truth, Injunnie," Doyoung whispers, "why geraniums?"

"Stop trying to sound intimidating, it doesn't suit you."

Doyoung just smiles and giggles. He's red in the face, too. Both of them are. Blushing like idiots in the darkness, lying on top of Doyoung's small, unmade bed, facing each other. Now that Doyoung has gotten enough sleep, his eyes aren't like geraniums anymore. They're more like lilies. Or something else entirely.

Renjun looks down, at their intertwined hands, feeling suddenly shy. It's not like him to be, but then again, Doyoung seems to make Renjun lose all of his carefully hand-picked sense of self.

"You wanted something that could last the winter," he says, "so I got you one that could last a lifetime."

Doyoung's breath hitches, loud in the quiet room. The silence rings afterwards, Renjun counts backwards slowly from one hundred.

"Thank you," Doyoung blurts out on the eighty-second count, voice hoarse. He clears his throat, hands squeezing around Renjun's. "Thank you, Renjun. I'll take care of it well."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Let's--you'll help me take care of it, right?"

"Yeah." Renjun looks up, right into Doyoung's eyes in the darkness, agreeing to something bigger than himself, bigger than a plot of land and growing geraniums. He swallows. "Yes," he says. This feels fate-sealing. His heart beats triple time inside his chest. "Of course."

Doyoung kisses him again, just for good luck, he supposes, or maybe he really likes kissing Renjun.

-

Later in his dream, tucked safely in the cradle of Doyoung's arms, it's no longer winter, and the lone geranium still stands, jutting out from the green grass. Steady. Unwavering. Strong.

+++

**Author's Note:**

> leave a comment!
> 
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